Another World
by LisaB-md
Summary: Would you know your soul mate if you met them? Read this story where Vegeta finally makes it to Earth, but for a reason you've never dreamed.
1. Chapter 1

ANOTHER WORLD

AN: This fic begins on the day Radditz would have arrived on Earth. Warnings: Language, possible references to sex.

This story was inspired by a wee exchange in one of my favorite movies, "A Little Romance."

Disclaimer: I did not create DragonballZ. Although I've been offered millions, I refuse to make money on my stories.

Chapter 1

It was a perfectly lovely reunion until the small spaceship crashed into the ocean.

Bulma and her husband, Yamcha were visiting Kame House catching up with Krillen and Master Roshi when Goku flew in on Kintouen. Although seeing Goku after five years was surprising in itself (Bulma and Yamcha had given into the romantic allure of eloping,) he brought an even bigger surprise with him -- his four-year-old son, Gohan.

Bulma thought Gohan was absolutely adorable---and so polite! After six months of marriage, Yamcha was beginning to drop subtle hints that they should start thinking about children, but Bulma had been deflecting them all. She wasn't ready for kids yet. She was still too young and, well, they had only been married for six months! There was plenty of time, for Pete's sake! That was what she told Yamcha, anyway. Secretly, she was disappointed that marriage hadn't brought the kind of deep, abiding contentment that she thought it would. Her mother assured her that was normal. Getting married was exciting, true, but it was still just everyday life after that.

So Bulma tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that somehow she was missing something. She knew she loved Yamcha; she was certain about that. She must have had some unrealistic expectations regarding marriage, that's all. Mom was right. You still have to get up and go to work the next day.

She and Yamcha were in the middle of relating an amusing anecdote from their honeymoon when the ship crashed into the atmosphere and streaked through the sky, leaving a trail of smoke and dust in its wake before it crashed into the ocean not 200 yards from the island.

"Wow!" Krillen said. "Did you see that? That was the biggest meteorite I've ever seen!"

"And it came so close too!" Goku said. "Hey, don't mention it to Chichi, OK? She'll never let me bring Gohan back if she thinks he's about to be crushed by a meteorite."

"Well, don't worry on that account because that was no meteorite," Bulma said.

"Huh?" All heads turned toward her.

"_That_ was a spaceship!"

The men looked dumbstruck, then started laughing.

"Hey! I mean it! I know what I saw! It was a spaceship--and whoever was in it is probably drowning right now! "

Goku sobered at the idea that someone might be in danger.

"What should we do?"

"Go get it!" she said. "Now!"

"Gohan, stay here with Bulma, OK?" Goku said and then he jumped into the surf.

Yamcha and Krillen jumped in the surf as well and all three swam out to where they had seen the craft enter the ocean. Bulma shot a glance at Oolong.

"I'm supervising," the pig said. She rolled her eyes and looked back at the ocean, waiting for some sign of the rescue mission.

She was just beginning to wonder if she'd sent her husband and friends to their deaths when their heads broke the surface, pulling the small spacecraft with them. They pulled it toward the beach and dragged it up onto the sand. The spacecraft was no bigger than a car, with a smooth exterior giving it the appearance of a giant silver egg. There were alien markings on the outside, none of them familiar.

"You were right, Bulma," Goku said. "It looks like a spaceship to me."

"Yes," Bulma said thoughtfully. She'd known it was a spaceship, of course, but now it was here in front of her! She ran her hands over the outer hull. So smooth! And it was from another planet! _I'm touching something from another planet!_

"It's not very big," Yamcha said. "There's probably only room for one person inside."

"Or a lot of little aliens," Krillen said.

"Right. We should be careful," Yamcha said. Master Roshi and Oolong looked at each other. Clearly the possibility of danger hadn't been considered.

"We'll be inside," Master Roshi said.

"Second line of defense," Oolong added and the two vanished into the house.

"Well, whether it's one person or ten, we've got to get it open. How do we do that, Bulma?" Goku said.

"I don't know. The hull's so smooth. This line here looks like it might be the outline of some kind of entrance, but I don't see any controls. . . "

She pressed her fingers blindly all around the "entrance."

"There's got to be some way to—"

She felt her fingers press into the ship, like she had hit a soft spot on a tomato. Suddenly there was a hiss and the line turned into a crack and a door was clearly opening. Smoke seeped out around the door's frame. Yamcha yanked Bulma back behind him and crouched into a fighting stance. Goku and Krillen followed suit.

The door finally reached its apex and stopped. When nothing charged, all three ventured nearer for a closer look. The last of the smoke cleared away revealing . . . .

"It's a kid!" Krillen said.

And it was. Slumped over a control panel was what appeared to be a child of eight or nine years.

"Wow! He looks human,"

"Is he asleep, Daddy?" Gohan asked.

"I don't think so," Goku said. He reached in and pulled the alien back into a sitting position, revealing a bloody, yet very human, face.

"He must have been knocked unconscious when his ship hit the water. It was going a couple of hundred miles an hour," Bulma said. She was next to the ship now, examining the alien boy. She ran her hands over his skintight black clothing, looking for broken bones. Not finding any, she pulled her hand away. The tips were bloody.

"Uh oh," she said, displaying her fingers. "Where did this come from? Let's get him out of here, guys."

The men gently lifted the boy from the seat and as they did so, the source of the blood became visible. There was a huge gash in his side.

"What did that?" Goku asked.

"Who knows?" Bulma said. "I've got to see how bad the damage is. Take off that belt and pull down the suit to his hips so I can get a better look. I'm going to get the medical kit in my plane."

When she got back, she was irritated to find the boy was still dressed.

"Hey! I said I needed to get a look at that!" Then she noticed the stunned expressions on her friend's faces. "What? What's going on?"

"That's not a belt, Bulma. That's a tail," Yamcha said.

"A tail? You mean like. . ." She looked at Goku.

"Like me!" Gohan supplied, wagging his own tail in example.

For a few seconds, Bulma stood in stunned silence with the rest, considering the implications of this revelation. Then she shook herself.

"Well, tail or not, he needs medical help. He's bleeding from a wound, the severity of which we haven't determined. Let's just load him in my plane and take him back to my dad. He'll know what to do." She tossed a capsule to Yamcha. "Put the kid's ship in that. We'll take it back, too."

Back at Capsule Corporation, the alien boy was examined thoroughly, though the outlook was grim.

"He's an amazing creature," Dr. Briefs said. "His physiology is almost human, but the cell construction is reinforced to a degree I can't comprehend. It's like he's built to withstand pressures and forces beyond what we would consider life to do.

"He's stable, but his blood pressure's too low. He needs blood. Even though his physiology is very human-like and his blood is iron-based, I can't find a blood type that I feel comfortable using. He may yet die, but I don't want to rush it by giving him incompatible blood."

"So what do we do?" Bulma asked.

"We wait," her father said, "and hope he pulls through. Maybe he recovers enough to give us some idea of how to treat his injuries."

"Dad? Can I look over the spaceship? Maybe there's some information on medical treatment or some clue on how to contact his parents."

"Bulma, that boy came from light years away using technology we don't have. My bet is that they already know."

The group fell silent at the prospect of more visitors--older, possibly more threatening visitors.

"But there still could be useful information. Let's go take a look at it together."

Meanwhile, back on the boy's home planet, the boy's companions returned and were very unhappy to find that their friend had not returned as well. After all, that meant they would have to tell their friend's father and admit what they'd been doing. They were in trouble and there was no way around it.

So they did what all boys in trouble do. They told their parents and let _them_ tell their friend's father.

"What the hell were they doing in the Southwestern quadrant anyway? That region is forbidden to pleasure-travel until we've eradicated the Glambien pirates."

"I know, Sire, but it appears that declaring an area off limits makes it irresistible to boys with Speed pods," Toma said.

The king turned his eyes on his son's companions.

"Tell me exactly what happened. Leave nothing out," he demanded.

Extremely grateful that protocol required he keep his eyes down, therefore saving him from having to meet the King's gaze, the boy named Haben said, "We were racing and it got boring after awhile, so Jal said—"

He was stopped by a small punch from his brother. "Thanks a lot."

"What? You did suggest it, Jal; I'm not going to lie in front of the King—"

"Get on with it!" the King snapped. There was time enough for this petty squabbling after his son was found.

"Sorry. Jal said we should go to the Glambian system. Test the pods speed and maybe take out some pirates as well."

"And what did my son say to that suggestion?"

"He said. . . ." The boy paused, clearly not liking what he was about to have to say. "He said "Fuck yes!" and then he said something about breaking the leash you have roped around his neck." The last was mumbled quickly and the boy braced himself for a blow at having spoken so to the king. The blow never came.

"Hmmphf! Sounds like the impudent brat. Tell me again why I shouldn't have killed him at birth?" the king said to his wife.

"Because I wouldn't have let you" the queen answered.

"Would have saved us a lot of trouble if you had,"

The queen shot him a look. "If one brat was too much trouble, explain why we continued to have them?"

The King narrowed his eyes at his wife and pressed his lips together. "I hate it when you do that," he said softly and then he turned his attention back to Haben.

"So you took the speed pods into restricted space and then what happened?"

"Well, at first everything went just like we planned. We drew out a few pirates, chased them around, let them chase us—"

"I shot down two!" Jal piped up. He piped back down at the king's glare. Clearly that was not the kind of detail the king wanted.

"Then, as we cleared the fourth planet's horizon, a much larger ship engaged us. It was larger than any the pirates have ever had before; we never would have gone there if we thought we were going to be outgunned. Honest! We knew immediately we needed to get out of there, so we decided to split up and rendezvous back here." His head dipped even more and his voice dropped. "The last we heard from Vegeta, the cruiser was on his tail and he couldn't shake it. He said he was gonna make a hyperspace jump to lose it. Then I heard a blast and that's all."

Vegeta looked at his wife, then back at the boy.

"Do you think his pod was destroyed?"

"I . . . I don't know. Maybe the blast I heard was just the sound of his ship making the jump. I've never heard it over a communicator before."

Vegeta looked in question at Nappa, Commander in Chief of the Saiyan fleet. If anyone had heard such a sound, he would have. Nappa gave a small shake of his head. Vegeta felt his wife clutch his arm. He looked into her panic-stricken eyes. This should not be a public scene.

"Toma, take your brats and leave. They will report to the Elite Training Room every morning for the next twenty days as punishment for violating the quarantine order. Perhaps that will beat some respect into them. I . . . I will have to think on their punishment for losing my son."

Toma jerked his sons up, cuffed each one on the ear and turned to go. As they neared the door, it opened and a soldier came bursting through.

"Sire! We have him!"

"It's a small class M planet---oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and a surprising amount of water. "

"Why would they take him there?" Vegeta asked. There was no doubt his son was a valuable hostage, but this planet was in unexplored space. Had the pirates obtained allies?

"Difficult to say. We know nothing about the region since our long-range scans show only trace amounts of valuable resources." Radditz said.

"Technology? Power levels?"

"Again, unknown. It's doubtful that they have advanced technology. Surely we would have encountered someone by now if they had space travel. Of course, power levels can't be scanned at this distance."

"Of course," the King murmured, then grinned. "I guess we'll just have to get within distance then, won't we?"

"'We'?" Radditz asked.

"I will not trust the retrieval of my son to anyone else and I will surely not deprive myself of displaying to his captors exactly how displeased I am that he has been taken."

Radditz grinned. "Now that's a show I'd buy a ticket for."

"Not necessary. I guarantee you a seat on the front row." He turned his attention back to the screen displaying the location of his son. "How soon can we arrive?"

"Three days," Radditz answered. "Two, if I push it."

"Push it," Vegeta said. "We leave in one hour."

Thanks for reading and please leave a review to let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

ANOTHER WORLD

AN: This fic begins on the day Radditz would have arrived on Earth. It's an AU, so I get to play with things like when stuff happened. It's my world! Mwahahaha!

Warnings: Language, possible references to sex.

Disclaimer: I did not create DragonballZ. Although I've been offered millions, I refuse to make money on my stories.

Chapter 2

Although Capsule Corporation was the bastion of all technological advancement on Earth, Goku sensed the alien presence first. He was just sitting down to eat lunch when he felt the enormous ki signatures.

"Uh-oh," Goku said. "Looks like Dr. Briefs was right." He stood up to leave and then looked back at the feast Chi Chi had prepared. He grabbed his fork, leaned over and shoveled a couple of forkfuls into his mouth just as Chichi reentered the room with another bowlful of food.

"Goku! Sit down before you eat!"

"Sorry, Chi Chi. I can't stay. We've got company." He headed for the door.

"What are you talking about? Who's here?" She followed him to the door.

"Not here," he said and then he pointed toward the horizon. "There!" He put his fingers to his lips and summoned Kintouen. "Sorry about lunch, Chi Chi." He thought about the huge powers approaching Earth. "I'm sorry about dinner too."

"Dinner? But Goku, where---"

Then she was talking to air, because Goku was gone, speeding off toward West Capital City.

"I've entered a low orbit around the planet. The atmosphere is so deep that we're actually in the upper layer, so we don't need to take a shuttle; we can just fly down."

"Any sign they've noticed us yet?" the king said.

"No," Radditz answered. "I've been monitoring one of their communications satellites. Surprisingly, they speak galactic Standard."

Vegeta quirked an eyebrow. "The Glambien's influence do you think?"

"I don't think so. It's understandable, but colloquial. Perhaps it's an early settlement, abandoned and forgotten. Take a look at this."

Radditz punched a button on the console, and a screen flickered to life, displaying a cat with a very large hammer chasing a mouse.

"_That's_ our enemy?" Vegeta said. "They don't look real."

Radditz glanced at the screen. "Oops. Forgot to change the frequency." He adjusted the controls, and the picture on the screen changed. Vegeta found himself looking at beings that looked . . . Saiyan.

"Saiyan? No remaining records showed us anywhere near this quadrant."

"No. There is no tail. And look at these power levels. Three, five, twelve. The bulk of the population is as weak as a newborn Calderian."

"Why would they bring my son here? These people are nothing but blast fodder."

"Disappointing, I know. It's hard to get any satisfaction out of killing the weak," Radditz said. "But look on the bright side, Vegeta. You'll have your son back very soon."

"Have you located Vegeta?" the king asked.

"He's in this city." Radditz punched a button and the screen closed in on domed structures. "In this building."

"Excellent," Vegeta said. "Let's go get my son."

At Capsule Corporation, the boy's condition had improved although he still had not regained consciousness. The gash in his side had healed impressively, and his blood pressure had improved as well.

"Pity we can't do anything about your hair!" Bulma's mother giggled. She had brought Bulma and her father a mid morning snack in their lab and stopped to check on the boy. "No boy should have to go through puberty with hair like Eddie Munster!"

"Mother, honestly!" Bulma said, entering the room. "Wait until he's awake before you pick apart his fashion sense." She walked over to the other side of the bed. "This hair is probably the height of fashion on his planet. Besides," she ran a fingertip across one velvety black eyebrow, "I think it suits him.

"When are you going to wake up, little guy? I sure could use some help understanding the power grid on your ship---"

"Oh, I can't pester him about his hair, but you can pester him about his ship?" her mother asked.

"We've got to fix his ship if he's ever going to get home, Mom. I don't think he's going to want to spend the rest of his life here."

"Hmmph!" her mother sniffed. "Maybe if there was a child running around here you might get in the mood to make a few of your own."

"Not you too, Mom!" Bulma groaned.

"Well, there's no point in waiting. If you have them young you'll still look good when they're grown," she said, walking to the door. She paused in the doorway and primped her hair for effect. "After all, look at me!"

Bulma shook her head as her mother left the room. With both Yamcha and her mother on the baby bandwagon, it was going to be harder to put off the inevitable. She _wanted _kids, she did. She just didn't want them right _now_. She looked down at the boy.

"I bet your mother didn't have everyone breathing down her neck to have you," she said.

Then the wall exploded.

Unhurt by the blast, Bulma instinctively covered the unconscious boy. When nothing else exploded she lifted her head to survey the damage. Sunlight streamed through the wall, then a very large, very dangerous-looking man blocked it as he entered the room, followed by a smaller, somehow more dangerous-looking man. From their odd dress to the clicking headgear they both wore, it was clear these were not Earthlings.

They stopped just inside the room and surveyed their surroundings. Satisfied the room contained no other threat; they turned their attention back to Bulma and the boy on the bed.

"I suggest you back away from the bed," the larger man said, "unless you would like to look like your wall."

Despite the man's fearsome appearance, Bulma found the courage to stand her ground.

"No way. We've spent too much time patching this kid back together. I'm not going to let you tear him up again."

The large man took a step forward and raised his hand toward Bulma. The hand began to glow.

"Radditz," the smaller man said softly, reaching up to lower the other man's arm, "this being has a power level of four. Surely we can just toss her out of the way."

"Toss me?" Bulma bristled at the thought of being treated like garbage. "Listen, buster," she said to the smaller man, "Maybe tossing people around is OK where you come from, but around here—" Her voice trailed off as she noticed for the first time the hair this man possessed. It was identical to the boy's.

"Around here the custom would be?" the man prompted.

"You. You're. . . related to him? Well, then I guess you're not going to hurt him!" She smiled, obviously pleased at this turn of events and took a step back from the bed, allowing the strange pair access to the boy.

"Pity I can't say the same about you," the larger man grumbled while the smaller man inspected the boy using his headgear. It hissed and clicked as the man pushed buttons on the side. Satisfied with whatever results his equipment displayed, he looked back at Bulma.

"If you tell us who captured my son and brought him to you, I might be persuaded to spare your life," the smaller man said.

"Spare my life? Why would you kill me? I've been busting my butt trying to save your son and fix his ship! You guys sure have a funny idea of gratitude!"

"Gratitude is not the usual response to kidnapping,"

"Kidnapping? Nobody kidnapped anybody. Your son's ship crashed into the ocean four days ago. He was unconscious and wounded. We brought him here and treated him. Ask him when he wakes up. If he wakes up. He hasn't woken up yet. We can't figure out why."

They turned their attention back to the boy on the bed, but before anything further could be determined, Goku burst through the hole in the wall.

"Bulma! Are you OK?"

All eyes swung to the voice and then to the floor. Radditz had fainted.

"Sorry," Goku said, scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to scare anyone. It's just I saw this hole and thought Bulma might be in trouble."

"It's okay, Goku. They're this boy's family. They've come to take him home. This is . . .? I'm sorry, I don't know your name yet."

"I am Vegeta. And this is Radditz," he said with a nod of his head. He looked at Goku thoughtfully. "I believe Radditz is your brother."

"What?" Bulma and Goku said in unison.

"Either that or I'm staring at the ghost of Bardock."

"Bardock?"

Vegeta sighed. This was getting complicated quickly. When he'd left Vegeta-sei he had planned on a rescue-and-punish-the-culprits-responsible mission. Now it appeared they had stumbled across an even bigger mystery. He looked at his son.

"Is my son out of danger?"

"Yes. He is healing at a phenomenal rate. He just hasn't woken up."

"It's a healing sleep. His body is focusing all its energy on healing his injury. He will wake when he's healed. "

"Bulma, what was that noise? What's----oh, my!" her mother said. She glanced from one alien to the other one still sprawled on the floor and then to the hole in the wall where Goku stood. "Oh, my!" she said again.

"Mom, we have company," Bulma said.

"Well, I can see that, dear." She looked again at the hole in her wall and the huge alien sprawled on the floor, and did what she did best whenever things got weird.

"So, have you boys had lunch?"

"So that boy is your son!" her mother crooned. "Such a cutie!"

"Mother!" Bulma warned in a low voice. At this rate the first contact with alien life was going to be the last contact because they were sure to turn tail and run if they believed her mother was an example of human intelligence.

"Yes," Vegeta said, amazed at the spate of words that continued to flow from the blonde woman's mouth. Didn't she ever need to breathe?

"Weren't you going to make lunch, Mom?" Bulma said and then turned to Vegeta. "Are you hungry? Did you want lunch? Stop raising your hand, Goku, I know _you_ want lunch, even though I'm sure Chi Chi has fed you already."

"Well, she tried, but then I felt these guys coming." He looked at Vegeta. "You are really strong. So is . . . the other guy."

"Radditz," Vegeta supplied. They had left Radditz on the floor of the room. Vegeta had nudged him once with his boot and then proclaimed it would probably be easier to have a discussion without him. Bulma had wanted to move him to a bed, but Vegeta said no. "He'll be fine. He's slept on worse than a floor."

Bulma had at least shoved a pillow under his head. It didn't feel quite right leaving him sprawled among the rubble without one. The one called Vegeta had snorted, but didn't object. They had made their way back to the Capsule Corporation living quarters to the soundtrack of her mother's chatter.

"Will he want lunch too?"

"Yes," said a voice from the doorway. Radditz had awakened to find the room empty except for the king's son, so he used his scouter to locate the king.

"Did you have a nice nap?" Vegeta inquired.

"I'm sorry, Sire. When this man first appeared, I thought I was seeing a ghost." He looked at Goku. "Who are you and why do you look like my father?"

"I believe he is your brother," Vegeta said.

"Impossible!" Radditz said. "No records indicate---"

"No records _remaining_," Vegeta said. "You of all people know how much was lost in the revolution."

Bulma's head was spinning. "Hold on, you two! Maybe we should start at the beginning. And at least sit down." She indicated the sofa and chairs in her living room. The two alien men appeared slightly irritated at her interruption, but did as she asked.

"Now," Bulma said when they were all seated, "Isn't this better?" She looked at the headgear the men were wearing. "Would you like to take those off? They do come off, right? We found one in your son's ship. Nifty little toy. It's some type of scanner, isn't it?"

"Among other things," Radditz said and took his off. "It's called a scouter."

"Scouter, " Bulma repeated and committed the term to memory.

"It's how we tracked Vegeta to your planet," Vegeta said and removed his as well.

Bulma was confused. "Vegeta?"

"My son."

"Oh, he has your name? I bet that gets confusing!" she said. She was going to add something else, but the man called Vegeta was looking at her in an odd way.

"What?" she asked after a moment. "Do I have dust on my nose?" She brushed it with her hand.

"You're blue," Vegeta said.

"Well, some of me is, yes," Bulma answered. "Couldn't you tell that before?"

"Not really. You get used to focusing through only one eye when wearing a scouter. It turns everything red."

"Oh."

Vegeta continued to stare at Bulma, holding her gaze until at last she could stand it no more. "What's the matter? Don't they have beautiful women on your planet?" she said with a flip of her hair.

Vegeta was shaken out of his trance by her forward comment. Had he been staring that long? And why?

"Of course we do," he answered automatically. "It's women as ugly as you that are in short supply."

Bulma's eyes flew open in shock and then they narrowed as she drew a breath to reply. Goku recognized the signs of a trademark Bulma Briefs outburst and cut in before she could start.

"So why do you think I'm Radditz's brother?"

The woman closed her mouth and looked at him expectantly. Clearly the need to satisfy her curiosity was more important than saying whatever it was she was about to say. Vegeta was oddly disappointed.

"You are the image of your father," he said. "Bardock."

"Bardock. You said that name before. He's my father?"

"Was your father. He's been dead for ten years."

"Oh," Goku said. "But why am I here? On Earth?"

"During the First Empire it was the practice to send infants to other planets," Radditz said.

"You sent babies into space?" Bulma said. "That sounds . . . cruel. Why would you do that?"

Vegeta tried to catch Radditz's eye to signal him that discussing the purpose of the infant pods was not a good idea. Discovering that this lost Saiyan was supposed to be the means of their destruction probably would not be welcome news. Fortunately, the blonde appeared again and interrupted before Radditz could answer the blue woman's question.

"Lunch!" Mrs. Briefs called from the doorway.

"Goody!" Goku said. "I'm starving." He rushed ahead to the table.

Bulma gave a chagrined look to the aliens. "Goku likes to eat---a lot."

"All Saiyans do," Radditz said.

"Saiyans?"

"Us," he said. "We are Saiyans."

"Well, I hope Saiyans don't mind answering questions," Bulma said, "because I have quite a few." Then she smiled and led her guests to the table.

It was an interesting lunch, and at times it got confusing. There were two stories being told at the same time---the Saiyans' tale of the missing prince and the one about Goku's childhood, which brought up the third story of how he had wound up forty-three thousand light years from home.

"Why would you send babies into space? It doesn't make any sense," Bulma said.

"It was common practice during the First Empire, but so many Saiyans were lost in the revolution, we discontinued it." Vegeta said, hoping that would end the topic. He had been on the surface of this planet less than two hours, but in that short time he had taken his measure of this woman. He knew without being told that conquering planets with Oozaru was not a practice of which she would approve, and for reasons he didn't understand, he didn't want to disappoint her.

"But, why?" she pressed. "I hate to think of a little baby all alone and defenseless."

Radditz laughed. "Saiyan children are hardly defenseless, particularly on a planet with a moon. Your planet must have had one at one time to attract an infant pod. What happened to it?"

"Master Roshi destroyed it," Goku said, "because I kept turning into a giant ape and destroying everything."

"It was just safer that way," Bulma added. "Eventually his tail stopped growing back so---"

She paused, a sudden flash of insight upon her. "That's why you sent them, isn't it? To destroy everything? For goodness' sake, why would you do that? You said you'd never even been near this part of space; you don't even know anything about Earth, but you sent a giant ape baby to destroy us?"

"Oozaru," Vegeta said. "The giant ape form is Oozaru." His lips pressed tightly together and he flashed a look at Radditz. No way out but the truth. "Yes, that was the purpose of infant pods. To clear a planet of indigenous life so it could be sold."

"Sold?"

"Yes. Before the revolution, planets were a commodity and a valuable one," Radditz said.

"You've said that before, 'revolution'. What revolution?" Bulma asked. Her head was starting to spin again from all the information, and somewhere inside there was a burgeoning sense of disappointment in the alien king. She'd looked into his strong, handsome features and immediately cast him in the romantic role of benevolent protector. Instead he appeared to be, at best, a callous opportunist, at worst, a mass murderer.

"Three years before I was born," Vegeta said, "my father entered into a treaty with the Ice-jin, an incredibly powerful race. Their weakness was their numbers. Although they had long life spans, they had a breeding cycle to match. One offspring every two hundred years. They needed more hands to do their bidding. My father signed a treaty that basically turned Saiyan warriors into mercenaries for the Cold Empire. When I was five I was sent to serve under King Cold's son, Frieza. Radditz and Nappa came with me as bodyguards.

"When I was ten, Bardock," he looked at Goku,"had a vision of the future. In the vision Frieza destroys Vegeta-sei and the Saiyan race. My father and the other nobles refused to listen. They were getting rich off the treaty and saw no reason to heed Bardock's vision. Bardock contacted me and warned me of his vision. Suddenly, so much of what had been happening on Frieza's ship made sense. I deserted---"

A human male burst into the room, interrupting the rest of Vegeta's tale. He went directly to Bulma.

"Honey, are you OK? Who are these men?"

"We're fine, Yamcha. These men came for our guest. This is his father, King Vegeta and this is Radditz. We were just having some lunch."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get away earlier," Yamcha said. "It was the bottom of the eighth, and they had two men on base---"

"It's OK, Yamcha," Bulma insisted. "You didn't need to rush back before," she put her fingers to her nose, "taking a shower. Go take one now; you're spoiling our appetite. Besides, Goku's here."

Yamcha felt the alien men's eyes on him and saw himself reflected there. _Submissive male who lets his wife order him around and other men protect her._ He wanted to assert some authority and stay, but he knew Bulma would never let him sit down dressed in his dirty baseball uniform. Any attempt to do so would probably only make him look worse in the eyes of these strangers. He nodded silently in agreement and went upstairs.

Later he would realize that the aliens couldn't judge him as a man ordered around by his wife because Bulma had never introduced him as her husband. This did not make him feel better.

Thank you to the few who have left reviews! I appreciate it greatly.

As always, thanks to my spectacular beta, Ember. Thanks to debbiechan for creative feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

ANOTHER WORLD

AN: This fic begins on the day Radditz would have arrived on Earth. Warnings: Language, possible references to sex.

Disclaimer: I did not create DragonballZ. Although I've been offered millions, I refuse to make money on my stories.

Chapter 3

The dining room was empty when Yamcha returned from his shower, but he followed the voices through the kitchen into the back yard. Bulma and the king stood in close conversation with Goku looking on. From the look on Bulma's face, whatever he was telling his wife fell just short of the most Amazing and Fascinating information of all time.

She spied him coming through the door.

"Yamcha! Radditz has gone to get their ship---_their spaceship!_ He's going to land it right here in the back yard! And then he's going to put Vegeta in . . . what did you call it? A recuperation tank?"

"Regeneration tank," Vegeta said.

The original plan hadn't been to land the ship, but the blue-haired human, Bulma, kept asking questions about how he and Radditz had traveled to Earth. He had answered them all (as well as he could anyway. He hadn't studied hyperdrive mechanics in some time,) and he had finally said, "We could land it here." The delight in her face when he said it echoed through him. He wished he knew what it was with this woman---why he wanted to please her and why he felt so ridiculously happy when he did so.

"That's right! Anyway, this tank will heal his son in a couple of hours. Isn't that amazing?"

"Yes," Yamcha said and looked at the king. "You've made someone's day."

"Would she explode if I told her about the matter transporter?" the king said.

"You have those?" Bulma said, her eyes as big as saucers.

"No."

"But you said---"

"Bulma, I think he's joking," Yamcha said.

Bulma looked at the king's face, so expressionless, then she saw the lips twist ever so slightly. She pressed her lips together, pissed at being made fun of. Behind her anger was a spark of pleasure that this man wanted to play with her and somehow, she knew what game he liked to play.

"What a world-class wit you are," she said sarcastically.

"Not really. I only appear so around people like you."

"What do you mean, 'people like me'?"

"Easy targets."

"If I appear to be an 'easy target' then it's because I have more manners than to make fun of people I just met!"

Vegeta snorted. "Manners---the usual comeback of the slow-witted."

Bulma drew breath to snap back, but was interrupted by her mother.

"Yamcha! Telephone!" Mrs. Briefs called from the doorway. "I think it's your manager."

Yamcha didn't want to leave his wife alone with the alien, but there was no way he could ignore the call—if he told Mrs. Briefs to give the manager some excuse and to call back later, Bulma would want to know _why,_ and he could hardly admit that he thought his wife was having too much fun picking fights with an alien.

Or that the alien was having fun picking fights with her.

So with a quick "excuse me" Yamcha went inside to take the call. It was not good news. The team plane was leaving tonight at eight o'clock rather than at six tomorrow morning for the doubleheader in Pepper City. OK, on any other day it would have been _indifferent_ news, but today, the day there was a strange alien king with a world of new technology and predilection for baiting his wife standing on his patio, it was very _bad_ news. He glanced out the window at the trio on the patio. They were pointing at the sky, and Vegeta had again ensnared his wife into some _tête à tête_ about fusion engines, anti-matter containment devices or some other gadget from his bag of tricks. He felt his jaw clench. A part of him, the reasonable part, knew he was being reactionary. It wasn't as if Vegeta was on his knees entreating his wife to "_come to the Casbah"_ (or whatever planet he was from). Ever since he'd come home, though, he had been getting this weird vibe that made him wonder if he was living in a fool's paradise, and the snake in the garden had finally made an appearance.

When he returned to the patio, Bulma grabbed his arm and pointed to the sky.

"That's the ship!" she said. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Yamcha looked up, but he couldn't see anything.

"Where? I don't see anything."

"There! See that blur? That's it. They've got some kind of cloaking device."

Yamcha looked again and this time he did see it---a shape in the sky, smearing whatever was behind into a trail of color. Only when the ground depressed as it landed did he realize it was not as large as he first thought, only about the size of a bus. Whatever device created the camouflage was deactivated, and the ship was finally realized in the sunlight. Silver and smooth, like the boy's pod, only larger and more threatening. Not that there were any weapons visible on the outside, of course. He knew those were on the inside.

And on his patio.

"Wow," Bulma breathed. She opened her mouth to say something else and grinned when she couldn't. "I can't say anything. I'm speechless!"

"Bet that won't last long," Vegeta said, and Bulma stuck out her tongue. The hatch opened, and Radditz emerged.

"I've prepared a tank, Sire."

"Good. I will get Vegeta," Vegeta said and walked back toward the blasted infirmary wall.

"I'd better go with you and remove the IV," Bulma said and trotted after him.

Yamcha pressed his lips together as he watched his wife trail after the alien, but then Radditz joined them on the patio and looked at Goku.

"So, little brother, how Saiyan are you? We know you like to eat. Do you like to fight?"

"Goku is the best martial artist on the planet," Yamcha said.

"Really?" Radditz seemed unimpressed. He walked a few feet away into an open area. "Care to show me what you've got?"

Goku didn't need to be asked twice. "Sure!" He reached into his gi and removed the weights he habitually wore, and then he walked over to Radditz and crouched into a fighting stance. When Radditz didn't move after a couple of moments, he said, "Uh, do you want me to go first?"

"By all means," Radditz said. "Take your best shot."

Goku waited a second more than pulled back and punched. Radditz easily evaded the strike and countered with one of his own, making contact with Goku's stomach. Goku fell back with an "ooomph!" but caught himself before hitting the ground. He turned back to Radditz and grinned a grin that Yamcha recognized---supreme delight at the challenge this new opponent presented. He unleashed a volley of punches and kicks. Radditz blocked them all except the last, a feint that connected with his jaw and bloodied his lip.

"Sorry!" Goku said. "I guess I got carried away."

"This?" Radditz asked, reaching up with one hand to dab at the blood. "This is what we Saiyans call a 'love tap.' Let's make this more interesting," he said and levitated off the ground.

"How do you do that?" Goku asked with wonder. "I wanted to ask before, when you went to get the ship, but you flew off so fast I didn't get a chance."

"You haven't learned to fly?" Radditz asked. "Saiyan children learn to fly almost as soon as they learn to walk. But I guess living on a planet of ki-less weaklings doesn't give you any idea of what you're really capable of.

"It's simple. Can you throw a ki blast?" Goku nodded and Radditz looked to the heavens in relief. "That's good. At least you're not totally unskilled. It's very similar to throwing a ki blast. You simply reach inside and _push_ the ki through your feet."

Goku closed his eyes and reached inside for his ki. He slowly gathered it, concentrating the energy to his feet and then he _pushed. _He felt himself lift off the ground and looked up at Radditz. "Like this?"

"Yes. Now push again harder."

Goku did so, and this time he did more than levitate; he shot into the sky with a "Woo-hoo!" He flew a few hundred feet into the air, then instinctively _pulled_ with his ki to stop, and he turned and looked down.

"This is amazing! Yamcha, you've got to try this!"

Yamcha already was. Irritated by Raddtiz's "ki-less weaklings" comment, he decided he was going to learn to fly if it killed him. Death mattered not; shoving something in that arrogant Saiyan's face meant everything.

So he _pushed, _and although he didn't make it off the ground the first time, he was delighted to find himself mid-air on the second try. Considering the big Saiyan's focus was on Goku during the first attempt, it was as good as making on the first try. He pushed again and flew toward Goku, his own goofy grin matching Goku's.

"Krillen's going to die when he sees this," Yamcha said.

"Oh yeah," Goku agreed.

"So did you want to fight or chat?" Radditz called. He had flown up to their height and hovered a hundred yards away. He gathered ki in his palm. "Either way, you'd better start moving!"

He hurled the small ball of ki at the pair, and they separated in time for the blast to breeze between them. Goku and Yamcha looked back at each other and silently agreed that Radditz had made his first mistake.

Goku grinned. "Remember---you asked for it!" he yelled, and the pair charged.

Radditz saw the team rushing at him and decided he still liked his odds. Grinning his own grin, he flew to meet the pair head on.

Back in the infirmary, Bulma and Vegeta were freeing Vegeta's son from the monitors and other medical equipment. Bulma pressed a cottonball onto the IV entry point and then pulled out the needle with her other hand. She looked at the boy's sleeping face and then at the father.

"I was right," she said. "It does suit you—him"

"What?"

"The hair. My mom thought it was too unusual, but I said I thought it suited him." She looked again at the boy's face. "Although I don't think he favors you through here." She gestured across the cheekbones and lower face. "His mother?"

"Yes," Vegeta said.

"The eyes and the brow though, that's all you." She smiled at him, a simple, quiet smile that tugged at him somewhere inside. He swallowed.

"You have no children?" he asked.

Bulma rolled her eyes, and her smile grew exasperated. "Not yet, though not for wanting on the part of my mother and Yamcha!"

Her attitude confused him. "Do you not want children?"

"Oh, yes! One day. Just not now," she said. "Yamcha and I have only been married six months. I just want to wait a while before we rush into kids."

His face clouded for a second, then it cleared. He said, "Don't take Tomorrow for granted. It breaks promises too easily."

Bulma was startled at his dark tone. "Ooh-kaay," she said. "I won't."

She reached for a Band-aid and placed it where the IV had been. "That's it. He's ready to go. Do you want to carry him or do you—"

"I will carry him," Vegeta said and leaned down to gently scoop up his son. They departed the infirmary through the hole again—it really was a shorter route to the back yard---and went back to the ship.

"Where'd everybody go?" Bulma asked at the sight of the empty patio.

"Hey, babe!" Yamcha swooped down past her so fast Bulma could identify her husband only by the color of the blur and sound of the voice.

"What the!" She tracked him with her eyes and saw him soar back overhead toward an orange dot that could only be Goku. "Well, I'll be! They're flying—they're really flying!" She whooped and waved and saw the dots jiggle in a manner that might be waving back.

"Look, here comes Radditz," Vegeta said, and a black dot charged Yamcha and Goku.

Bulma watched the frantic exchange and came to the only conclusion possible.

"Are they --- fighting?"

"So it would seem." He watched a moment longer, then uttered a small oath. "That was close. If Radditz doesn't watch himself he's going to lose. Those two may not have his power, but they're quick and well-trained." He turned to Bulma. "So did you want to see the tank or not?"

"Do I? Is a frog waterproof?" she said. At his blank stare she realized he probably had no idea what a frog was and whether it was waterproof or not. "Sure," she said, "I'd love to see it."

They entered the ship, and Bulma's eyes feasted on more dials and knobs and buttons than she'd ever seen before. What did they all do? She reached up to finger a lever that was temptingly close, and Vegeta said:

"Don't touch anything!"

Bulma jerked her hand back. "I was only looking."

"Sure you were," he said, moving back through a doorway further into the ship.

Bulma followed, her eyes darting from one gadget to another.

"I'll have you know I'm a genius," she said.

"In whose opinion? Yours?" Vegeta said, passing through what appeared to be some sort of lounge area into another room.

"Everyone's," she said. She spied a silver gadget resembling a gun lying on a table and picked it up. "See? I can tell this is some type of weapon just by examining it."

Vegeta looked at the item in question and grinned. "I can see that 'everyone' is wrong. That device opens food containers," Vegeta said.

Bulma looked again at the gadget and felt her face color. "Oh." She sheepishly returned it to the table.

"The tank is through here," Vegeta said and disappeared through another hatch.

Bulma followed him into what looked to be a small sick bay, but the examination tables she would have expected were absent.

"How do you . . . ?" she started.

"Push that blue button there," Vegeta said, nodding toward it with his head.

Bulma noticed for the first time the two glass chambers on the wall. She located the blue button and pushed it. One of the glass doors opened with a hiss, and Vegeta gently placed his son inside it.

"Hand me that mask," he said. Bulma reached into the top of the tank and released the mask and handed it to Vegeta. He fastened the mask over the boy's face.

"Step back," he said and pushed the blue button again.

"Just a mask? How does--"

"You're the genius," Vegeta said. "Watch and figure it out."

"Hmmmph!" Bulma sniffed. "What you mean is that you don't know."

He quirked an eyebrow and graced her with an infuriatingly smug smile. "Maybe I do or maybe I don't, but I do know I'll have a lot more fun watching you figure it out than telling you about it."

"You don't think I can?" she asked.

"Does it matter?"

Her eyes met his black gaze, and whatever retort had been on her lips died. There it was again, that connection. She'd felt it twice before, once during lunch and once on the patio. She didn't know how to describe it other than to say it felt like a link, a joining, like holding hands with her eyes. _Does is matter_ he had asked. _Oh yes,_ she thought, _I don't know why, but yes, it matters. It matters much more than it should._

She jerked her eyes away and said, "I don't suppose it does."

A gurgle drew her attention back to the tank. It was filling with a clear blue liquid.

"Liquid? Amazing. What is it? Some kind of antibiotic?"

"Synthetic DNA infused with a growth hormone. It accelerates healing."

Bulma grinned. "Can I have the recipe?" Another blank stare from Vegeta. "Never mind," she said, looking back at the tank. "I'll figure it out on my own. How long before he's healed?"

"First the computer assesses injuries then gives an estimate on healing time. Not long, I should think."

The ship rocked violently, and Bulma and Vegeta were thrown against the wall, then to the floor. The ship went dark. A second later power came back, but the ship's lights were red. Vegeta recovered first, then helped Bulma to her feet. He steadied her by grasping her shoulders.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

Bulma shook her head. "I don't think so. What was that?"

"I don't know, but I have an idea," he said and led the way back outside the ship.

They emerged into the sunlight to the sound of loud voices—Goku's and Radditz's.

"---I told you I was sorry, Radditz. I didn't realize you were focused on Yamcha and not me. I promise I never would have fired that blast if I thought that you weren't going to block it."

"It was too big to begin with—"

"You told me to take it up a notch---"

"Silence!" Vegeta had clearly had enough of the exchange. He walked over to Radditz. "He blasted the ship?"

"Yes, Sire," Radditz said, but he quickly added. "It was an accident. We were sparring and---"

"---and you got your butt kicked by two fighters who learned to fly today. Nicely done."

Radditz lowered his eyes. What could he say? Goku leapt to his defense.

"It really wasn't a fair fight, Vegeta. Yamcha and I were double-teaming him. And I'm the one who threw the blast. If it hadn't been two on one, I know Radditz would have blocked it."

Vegeta never turned his face from Radditz's as Goku spoke, but when Goku was finished, his lips twisted into an almost smile as if the long-lost little brother's defense amused him. Then he spoke. "Assess the damage. Auxiliary power came on. Hopefully the system is just offline."

Radditz nodded and disappeared into the ship. Vegeta turned then and faced the group, but he said nothing. Goku and Yamcha suddenly found the grass interesting. After a minute of watching two grown men get stared down, Bulma took a page from her mother's book.

"You guys must be really thirsty after all that! I'll get us some lemonade," she said and went into the house to make it.

When she came back out, Goku and Yamcha were on the patio, but Vegeta had disappeared. "Did he go back onto the ship?"

"Yeah," Goku said. "I think he's kind of mad I blasted the ship, even if it was on accident."

"Well, I'll take theirs in to them. If something's wrong, they'll probably need my help to fix it," she said, heading toward the ship.

"Bulma," Yamcha called,"don't interfere. These men fly around in space all the time; I don't think they're going to need your help."

Bulma rolled her eyes at Yamcha. "Silly boy, _all men_ need my help! Haven't you figured that out yet?" She gave an artful flip of her hair and vanished into the ship.

"What do you mean, 'ruined'?" Vegeta was saying as she entered. She stopped at the door. She felt horrible eavesdropping, but she couldn't resist hearing what they would say when they believed they were alone.

"I mean _ruined. _Broke, busted, unusable, destroyed—take your pick. That blast hit the ship at the one spot it needed to fry the energy cell beyond repair."

"What do you recommend?" Vegeta asked.

"I'll just pull this spare energy cell out of my pants and plug it in---"he snorted. "Vegeta, there is no recommendation. I can't repair the damage, and we didn't bring a spare cell. We weren't planning on taking the ship into battle; we weren't even planning on _landing_ it." There was a mild accusation in his tone. Clearly their relationship was much closer than that of king and servant. No servant would dare to speak so to their king.

There was a pause, and then Vegeta answered, "Are you questioning my decisions?" He sounded as if he didn't like whatever Radditz was accusing him of and wanted to put the conversation back on formal ground.

"No, Sire," came the reply. "But without power, we can't leave. We can't even transmit at hyperwave speed; the only message we can send is a sub-space transmission. At forty-three thousand light years that should reach Vegeta-sei in—"

"Two weeks," Vegeta finished.

"Yes."

Vegeta cursed softly. Bulma decided to make her presence known.

"Here's the lemonade!" Their black eyes fixed on her, and Bulma was reminded that these were not some clients she could schmooze into submission. These were aliens whose previous pastimes included wiping planets clean of all life. "Uh, is there a problem?"

"No," Vegeta said and Radditz answered "Yes!" at the same time. They glared at each other, but Radditz spoke.

"Goku's blast fried the energy cell. Without it, we can't leave."

"Can it be repaired?"

"No."

Bulma thought a moment. "So you need another power source, one compatible with your technology, and that can power this ship at hyperspeed?"

"Yes."

"I suppose I could do some research and come up with something. That'll probably take some time, and I know you want to get going . . . . Wait a minute! What about Vegeta's pod? Would it have an energy cell you could use?"

"A small one, but it would be better than nothing," Radditz said.

"You have his pod?" Vegeta asked.

"Yes! Vegeta was still in it when we pulled it out of the ocean. It's in my lab."

Radditz grinned. "Bulma, you're a genius!"

Vegeta scowled. "Don't encourage her."

The Briefs home lab was reserved for either pet or top-secret projects. A pod from outer space qualified as the latter so it wasn't in one of the large corporate laboratories across the compound. It was in the basement.

Or so she told Vegeta. But when he entered the "lab" he found the room almost empty. There was an odd gadget here or there, but most of the work surfaces were bare of technical equipment. He did see a series of what looked to be computers against the wall. _Amazing how computers look similar in almost every culture,_ he thought absently. He scanned the room again. _But where is the pod? _

Bulma walked across the room and started pulling drawers out, rifling through the contents. Every once and a while she pulled out an oblong container, examined it, then tossed it back in the drawer. They waited. Then she went to another wall and began to repeat the process.

"I thought you said the pod was in your lab?" Vegeta said impatiently.

"It is---I'm looking for it! Keep your pants on!" she said and continued on her bizarre hunt.

Radditz leaned toward Vegeta. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing. She keeps pulling out these tiny capsules."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Figures. It was too good to be true."

Bulma was on her knees now, opening cabinets, muttering. "I know it's here. Dad must have come in to take another crack at it . . . . It's going to be so much easier to figure out now that you guys are here . . .Aha!" She held up a capsule triumphantly. "I told you it was here."

She stood up and walked to the center of the room. "Stand back a bit, boys." She popped the capsule and tossed it.

Poof and smoke filled the area where she had tossed the capsule. It cleared quickly revealing . . .

The pod was there. Inexplicably, impossibly, undeniably _there_. Vegeta blinked. It was still there.

"How did you do that?" Radditz asked.

"Do what?" Bulma said.

"Make the pod appear."

"Oh! I didn't make it appear, I just decapsulated it." She picked up the opened capsule on the floor. "It was just in here. It was too big to keep in the middle of the floor. Not to mention secret! We had this horrible photographer once who----"

"Do it again!" Vegeta said.

Bulma stopped her story. "Do what? Decapsulate the pod? I can't do it again. Well, I could, but I would have to encapsulate it first."

"Then do that!"

She started to comply, but a new thought struck her. "Haven't you ever seen capsule technology before?"

They shook their heads 'no'.

"Oh! I guess I just assumed people who had managed the hyperdrive would have figured out how to encapsulate stuff. It's so convenient. See, all you do is . . .

Bulma launched into her standard capsule presentation. She didn't make all the corny jokes she made for the high school science students that were her usual audience and added a bit more technical information. When it was over, and she had decapsulated the pod one last time, she turned to her audience of two.

"Any questions?" she said automatically with a big smile. She saw Radditz's hand twitch, but he didn't raise it.

"That's . . . amazing," he said. "Is there any limit to the size of the object you put into the capsule?"

"There used to be," she answered. "When dad started, very large objects would fall into electron degeneracy, effectively ruining the object. At fifteen, I discovered a new way to encapsulate massive objects that wouldn't compromise the atomic structure, so now there's pretty much no limit to what can be encapsulated."

During her little presentation, she had kept looking at Vegeta, looking for some sign he was impressed, interested---_something_. But he had stood there like a rock, expressionless, taking in every detail, but giving nothing away regarding his thoughts. She was still smarting after her embarrassment on the ship. _A gun! Why would aliens with the personal power these men possessed carry a weapon? _ She mentally smacked her head. _Way to go, girl! You really know how to impress a guy—NOT!_ Some part of her rebelled at this thought; she wasn't supposed to be concerned with whether or not she was _impressing_ Vegeta. She wasn't supposed to be concerned with Vegeta at all! That didn't change the fact that she _wanted_ to impress him, wanted it badly.

"So," she said brightly to hide her disappointment. "How about we check out the power cell to this pod?"

Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought. Any feedback is appreciated.

Big thanks as always to my beta, Lynnember and to debbiechan for creative consultation. You gals are fab. And the rest of you---go read their stories! They're posted right here at (So convenient to your current location!)


	4. Chapter 4

ANOTHER WORLD

AN: This fic begins on the day Radditz would have arrived on Earth. Warnings: Language, possible references to sex.

Disclaimer: I did not create DragonballZ. Although I've been offered millions, I refuse to make money on my stories.

Chapter 4

While Krillen didn't exactly "die" at the sight of his two friends flying over Kame House, his reaction was well worth the trip out there. Goku and Yamcha spent a quick hour teaching Krillen to fly before Goku announced he was heading home to ask Chi Chi if he could bring his brother home for dinner.

Yamcha waved goodbye to Krillen and headed back to Capsule Corporation alone. He'd been so psyched about showing Krillen his new skill that he didn't even realize until that moment that he had left Bulma alone with the aliens. He increased his speed as his head filled with visions of the king dangling technological gew-gaws in front of Bulma the way rich men dangle diamonds.

When he finally found her, underneath the suspended pod, wearing coveralls, tools in hand, directing the taller alien to "hold this while I—", he felt somewhat better. Working, she was just working, _trying to fix something_—her specialty. The situation was completely normal.

"No, not like that, Radditz!" Vegeta said, stomping over, taking the tool Radditz was holding. "She wants you to hold it like this."

"He was doing fine, but this is OK, too," Bulma said. "Just don't let it turn while I---" and she twisted the tool in her hands, loosening the fastener. "One more," she gritted out and twisted again. She dropped her tool onto the floor as she reached into the belly of the pod and retrieved her prize—a glowing sphere. She cradled it in two hands before raising her eyes to Vegeta. Yamcha saw a slow smile spread across her face as she met the king's gaze. He watched them stare at each other a moment and couldn't shake the feeling that he was _intruding_. No, the situation was not normal. It was completely out of control.

"Is this it?" he heard his wife ask.

"That's it," the king said.

"Kind of small," she said.

"It does what it needs to."

"Now what?"

"Now," Radditz said, stepping in to take the orb, "we adapt it to the cruiser." From the tone in his voice, Yamcha got the impression that he was not the only one who felt the draw between his wife and the king. Apparently, Radditz didn't approve either.

Bulma was grateful when Radditz's voice broke the spell she had fallen under gazing into Vegeta's eyes. They were so black, so deep; it was easy just to fall into them and . . . drown. She had to stop doing that! She was married, for goodness sakes! And her husband was taller, handsomer, and certainly more pleasant than this man who seemed to delight in pissing her off. Was it just because he was exotically alien? Because he was the king of another world who traveled in a bona fide spaceship? No, it was something intangible, something she couldn't quite pin down no matter how hard she tried. This man just _pulled_ at her. It was baffling. It was exciting . . . it was _wrong_.

"So how do we do that?" she said, turning to Radditz.

"We need to get the housing for the energy cell from the cruiser and determine how to replace the burnt out cell with this smaller one."

"Well, let's get to it," she said, grabbing her tool kit. "Is it hard to get to?" she asked, leaving the lab with the larger Saiyan.

"Not too difficult if you're small," Radditz said, the rest of his comment was lost to the pair left in the lab.

Yamcha stared at Vegeta, who met his gaze without flinching. They stared at each other for some moments, a challenge and an understanding in their eyes.

_You can't have her, _Yamcha thought. He didn't have the courage to give voice to his irrational fears.

_I know,_ filtered into his brain. Yamcha blinked and shook his head, clearing it. _What the hell was that? _ His eyes met the king's gaze again. The black orbs were silent and expressionless until at last the king looked away and left the lab.

A few second later, Yamcha left as well. His imagination might be overactive today, but he still wasn't going to leave Bulma alone until he had to.

Imagination or not, Yamcha spent the rest of the afternoon watching his wife fall in love with the alien king. It was difficult to say how he knew it was happening since all they appeared to do was fight. One would make a point of disagreeing with whatever the other had just said, usually following it with a derogatory remark. Insults would be traded and the spat would escalate until Radditz intervened, usually by distracting Bulma with a new question. Work would continue until there was another disagreement and the cycle would repeat itself.

"I'm telling you that it will work! Look at the numbers Dad ran. Once we increase the output by channeling the energy through a transformer, the cell will give you what you need," Bulma was saying to Vegeta. "Unless you're wrong about the power required for the hyperspace jump. And that seems highly probable considering the source."

"I'm not wrong," Vegeta snapped. "And I don't need to be schooled in hyperdrive mechanics by a woman who has never left her own planet!"

"Well, if you know everything, Your Highness, then you know I'm right! Math doesn't lie! Re-routing the power is the only way."

"Actually, Sire," Radditz's voice cut in, "I'm inclined to agree with her. If the Earth transformer performs as she claims, there won't be a compromise in the radon field around the cell. It should act just like a larger cell once it's charged."

Vegeta pressed his lips together, looking away. "Whatever," he said. "I'm bored with it."

Another hour passed and the adapted cell was ready to be installed in the cruiser. They were carrying the housing out the back door when Goku arrived on Kintouen. Bulma almost asked why he wasn't flying on his own like before, but then she saw Gohan's face behind Goku's. Of course! Chi Chi wouldn't trust Goku to fly with Gohan on his own.

"Hi, Goku. Hi, Gohan," she called. "Did you bring Gohan to see the spaceship?"

"No" he said. "I came to ask Radditz to come to my house for dinner. Gohan, this is your Uncle Radditz."

Gohan bravely walked up to the huge Saiyan and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Raddtiz knelt down to shake Gohan's hand, his huge hand engulfing the smaller one. "Hello, Gohan," he said. "You know, you really shouldn't leave your tail out like that."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Wrap it around your waist like this," Radditz said, standing up to display his own tail. He uncoiled it from his waist, gave it a shake, and then wrapped it tightly back. "That way no one can grab it and use it against you."

Gohan tried to duplicate Radditz's deft tail wrap, but his tail wouldn't cooperate. Finally he grabbed it in his hands and manually wrapped it around his waist. "Like this?"

Radditz shrugged. "Close enough. Practice and you'll get better."

"So how about it, Radditz? Chi Chi is cooking all of my favorites. You don't want to miss her dumplings," Goku said.

Radditz looked at Vegeta. "Sire?"

"Go on. We can't leave until the cell's charged anyway. I can make sure the woman doesn't screw anything up," Vegeta said.

"Oh please! Like—" but Goku's "Great!" interrupted the rest of Bulma's outburst. "Come on!" He grabbed Gohan and settled back on Kintouen. "Maybe you can convince Chi Chi to let me train Gohan!"

Bulma watched the trio disappear into the sky, then looked at her watch. "Goodness, it is dinnertime! Hey Yamcha, will you ask Mom to give you a couple of plates for Vegeta and me? We need to get this installed as soon as possible so the cell can start to charge. Thanks!" she said, and without waiting for an answer, trotted off toward the cruiser. He caught Vegeta's eye for one moment before he too went to the ship, leaving Yamcha alone in the coming twilight. Torn between doing what Bulma asked and abandoning her to the king, he finally went into the house to talk to Mrs. Briefs about dinner "to go".

Reinstalling the energy cell wasn't as easy as Bulma had hoped. The new transformer had been attached in a position that collided with another device near the cell's location. It took her another hour to remove and reconnect the transformer in a position that didn't conflict with the existing machinery in the cruiser. It was tough work, cramped in the underbelly with barely enough room for one, but Vegeta had insisted crawling down there as well to make sure she didn't "make things worse." When Yamcha finally brought out their dinner, she was so constricted it hurt to unbend her body.

"How's it going?" Yamcha asked.

"OK. I've almost got it back together," Bulma said. "It's a good thing I know how to improvise otherwise we'd be back at the drawing board."

"So you'll be able to leave as soon as it's fixed?" Yamcha said to Vegeta.

"As soon as it's charged, yes," Vegeta said. He couldn't help adding, "but that could be hours, maybe days."

Yamcha's eyes hardened. "Or minutes. As _my wife_ is so fond of saying, 'you don't know'."

Bulma glanced from her husband to Vegeta and her eyebrows drew together. _What the hell was that all about?_ she wondered. With everything else going on, she didn't need a fight as well. "Yamcha, don't you need to pack?"

Yamcha pulled his eyes away from Vegeta to look at this wife. "Eventually."

"Well, go do it and let us eat. I've still got quite a bit to do here and I need to get back to it."

Yamcha hesitated. His stomach churned and he found the courage to say, "Shouldn't Vegeta come inside and let you work? You're always telling me you don't like people poking over your shoulder while you're working. You'd probably get done faster that way." He was rather proud of the detached, practical note in his voice. His suggestion made perfect sense. Reasonable. Logical. Surely Bulma could see he was right?

"Actually, no. He's been quite helpful, and he's been patiently answering all my questions about space travel. It's not like I get to quiz someone from another planet every day!" She smiled at Vegeta who didn't smile back. Instead he looked at Yamcha and raised an eyebrow in victory. Yamcha's heart sank.

"I'll go pack," he said and left the ship.

"You never finished your story," Bulma said. She and Vegeta had eaten in silence for several minutes after Yamcha left, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know more about this man.

"Story?" Vegeta asked.

"At lunch you started telling me about the revolution and why you don't send babies off-world any more. You just told the part about Goku's father telling you his vision and that you deserted, but we got interrupted. So what happened after you deserted?"

"I went home and tried to convince my father that Frieza did not wish us well, that we were not "partners" in a business enterprise, but were being used and would not outlive our usefulness. He didn't believe me any more than he believed Bardock."

"That must have been tough to take," she said. "What did you do?"

"I started a civil war," he said. "If my father was going to lead the Saiyan people to destruction, he had to die."

The matter of fact tone Vegeta used sent chills down Bulma's spine. She couldn't imagine speaking so coldly of killing anyone, much less her own father.

"Wow," was all she could think of to say.

"You disapprove?" he asked.

"Well, I . . . it's not something I would do, no," she said.

He gave her a harsh smile. "Then your people would be dead. It was this war that ultimately saved us from Frieza. It amused him to watch us try to wipe each other out, so even though we had outlived our usefulness, he stayed his hand. He watched our fight and sold intelligence to my father about my forces. By that time, it wasn't only Saiyans fighting; other races joined my fight because they knew if I won I would fight Frieza." He fell silent, but Bulma wanted the rest of the story.

"And did you? Fight Frieza?"

"Yes. After my father was dead, he decided to finish us off." He looked away for a minute and then back at her. "So I killed him," he said flatly.

Bulma waited for him to elaborate, but Vegeta had clearly said all he was going to. _Talk about your Reader's Digest version of events,_ she thought. "So you became king. Then what?"

Vegeta put down his fork. "You're a nosey thing, aren't you?" he said, but he answered her question anyway. "We worked to rebuild Vegeta-sei. In the final assault, much was destroyed. Centuries of records were lost. That is how we lost your friend. So many Saiyans were killed during the revolution that we tried to bring home those sent out in infant pods. Bardock's mate was especially persistent about locating her second son, but without records, we didn't know where---Ha! Kakarrot!"

"What?"

"Kakarrot. That's Goku's true name. I knew I would remember it eventually. Chirabara repeated it often enough."

"Chirabara?"

"Kakarrot's mother. She was adamant that we find her other son, but there were no records to even prove he existed, much less where his pod had been sent."

"Chirabara," she repeated. "Goku has a mother. All those years with no one and he had a family all along. I don't think he missed it; I'm not even sure he thought about it, but all along there was someone asking about him, looking for him. You'll have to tell her that he's all grown up now and that she's a grandmother!" A new thought struck her. "Wait a sec---you're not thinking about taking him back are you? 'Cause you can't; Goku belongs here now! I won't let you---

Vegeta held up a hand. "Trust me. Kakarrot you can have." Vegeta had known the imbecile for less than a day and he'd already wrecked Vegeta's space cruiser. Kakarrot wasn't going to get with ten parsecs of Vegeta-sei if he could help it!

"Ok then," Bulma said. "Just so we're clear on that. Now let's finish up so the cell can start charging." She put aside her plate and crawled back under the deck. Vegeta watched her with some amusement. The weak female apparently thought she had some control over his actions. _And does she?_ he wondered. If he wanted to take Kakarrot back, would he do so over her objections? Bulma interrupted his thoughts before he could answer his own question.

"Are you coming?"

"I'm not finished yet," he said, reaching for Bulma's half-full plate. "Just don't touch anything until I'm down there to make sure you're doing it right."

"Oh, please! I could rebuild this in my sleep now!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "And with one hand tied behind your back as well, I suppose?"

"You got it, buster!"

Vegeta grinned at her use of the unknown word. He knew it was somehow derogatory and being treated with such disrespect should have infuriated him. Her total inability to let him have the last word should have infuriated him. But somehow, he wasn't infuriated, he was _infatuated._ The qualities that repulsed him in others somehow attracted him to her. He couldn't explain it and he sure as hell couldn't stop it or even control it. The most disturbing part of it was _he didn't really want to._

At the Son house, Radditz was relaxing with a full stomach, very much enjoying the drink Goku referred to as a _beer. _His brother's wife had hustled his nephew outside after dinner for a bath. She had been oddly uptight during the dinner. He wasn't sure if she was upset by the fact that Goku had brought his brother home for dinner or that Goku had a brother at all. She had waxed and waned in her attitude towards him. At times she was pleasant and even inquisitive about his life on Vegeta-sei. _Do you have a wife?_ At other times, she was defensive, perhaps even hostile. He noted that the topics during her negative outbursts tended to deal with Gohan's studies and fighting. He mentally shook his head at her foolishness. Gohan was part Saiyan---he would fight whether she approved or not. It was in his nature, his very blood. She would be wise to let Gohan indulge his Saiyan side with guidance; otherwise she might wake up one day to a very unpleasant surprise.

"So how strong are you on that machine-thingy?" Goku's voice broke through his reverie.

"Thingy?" Radditz asked, picking up his scouter. "This?"

"Yeah."

"1200." He waited for the next question. Goku was Saiyan, after all.

"What do I measure?"

"425."

Goku sat back and absorbed this information. "I can get stronger, right?"

"Certainly, that's what makes Saiyans such feared fighters. Our injuries only make us stronger when healed."

"So I need to get hurt a lot to get stronger? I don't think Chi Chi would like that."

Radditz's lips lifted. No, Chi Chi wouldn't like that at all. "No, any training will increase your strength, but the more aggressive the training, the more your strength will increase. Unfortunately, the gravity on your planet is very weak. Greater gravity would boost your results."

Goku thought about that for a moment before saying, "I bet Bulma could build something! She's really smart, always inventing stuff."

Radditz couldn't disagree. The blue-haired human's genius had been in evidence all afternoon as they had struggled to modify the cell housing. It was everything else about her that was a problem. His eyebrows drew together as he recalled his king's bizarre behavior that afternoon. Vegeta had always been hot-headed and impulsive, but watching him deliberately bait the woman for no other reason than entertainment was mystifying. And there was that bizarre _undercurrent_ to it. They couldn't leave the planet soon enough as far as Radditz was concerned.

As if thinking of Vegeta had brought the king forward into Goku's mind, Goku asked, "So how strong is Vegeta? He's stronger than you, I can tell."

"The king is Super Saiyan," Radditz said.

"_Super_ Saiyan? What does that mean?"

"Among the Saiyan race there has been a legend handed down of a Super Saiyan. Once every thousand years, a Saiyan will be born so powerful that he would be unstoppable."

"Wow," Goku breathed. "How hard do you have to train to become Super Saiyan?"

Radditz looked out of the window at Gohan playing the wooden tub. He was splashing his mother and, surprisingly, she was laughing. He thought about Goku's obvious affection for his child. He spoke without turning away from the scene in front of him.

"I don't think you want to know what it takes to become Super Saiyan. The cost is very high."

Goku followed his brother eyes out the window and looked at his wife and child. He swallowed. "I don't understand. What 'cost'?"

Radditz turned to his brother. "Let's just say that Prince Vegeta may be the king's heir, but not his first son."

Goku's mind tried to understand. Older children always inherited titles before younger children. The only time younger children got to inherit titles was when the older child . . . died. "Oh," he said softly. "What happened?"

"Frieza happened. The fight to save our world was not easy or short. After Vegeta ascended to the throne, he took a Queen. The first child was born soon after, but he was sent off world to a secret location to ensure the succession should the worst befall our king. We assumed that Vegeta would be his primary target." Radditz paused at this point and shifted his body. "Frieza discovered the planet's location and destroyed the planet."

"That's terrible," Goku said.

Radditz gave a grim smile. "Like I said, you don't want to pay the cost."

There was an awkward silence since there was really nothing else to say. Goku could sense that sympathy would be unwelcome. For whatever reason, his brother and the king seemed to disdain shows of emotion. Perhaps it was a Saiyan thing, something he was glad he didn't inherit. It seemed the only things Saiyan about him were eating and fighting. They had already eaten, so . . . .

"So do you want to show me that Shock Blast technique you were telling me about?" Goku asked, standing.

Radditz took a final sip of his beer and stood as well, stretching. "Good idea. After a meal like that, I need some exercise or I will fall asleep flying back."

Chi Chi and Gohan came back inside, Gohan wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

"Say goodnight to your Uncle Radditz, Gohan," she instructed.

"Good—"

"Chi Chi," Goku said, looking at the clock. "It's an hour until Gohan's bedtime. Radditz and I were just going to go outside and spar a bit. I know Gohan would like to watch, wouldn't you, Gohan?"

"Sure!" said Gohan. He looked at this mother. "Can I, Mom?"

Chi Chi pursed her lips together and looked at Goku. "Goku, we've discussed this. I don't want Gohan---"

"Son Chi Chi," Radditz said, interrupting, "Goku has told me that you insist that Gohan should not be trained. Is there a reason for this?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she said primly, "but my Gohan is going to be a scholar, not a fighter."

"Why can he not be both? Is he not smart enough?"

"Absolutely not! Gohan is the brightest four year-old in school. His teacher says so."

"Is he so physically weak that he is incapable of exercise?"

"Of course not! My Gohan is as healthy as a horse!"

"So he is capable of doing both," Radditz continued, "but you hold him back."

"I do no such thing!"

"Yes, you do." Radditz took a step toward her, filling her vision with his large frame. "You are making a mistake. Your son is half-Saiyan. He will fight whether you want him to or not. He can train with his father or pick fights at school with kids, but he _will_ fight. He is Saiyan. You need to decide whether you will control how and when he fights or whether he runs wild behind your back. Do you understand?"

Chi Chi's eyes grew bigger as the Radditz continued speaking. She almost backed away as the Saiyan seemed to grow larger with every word. When he stopped, she nodded her head once and said, "I understand" in a voice so soft that Goku wasn't sure it came from her lips. Whether what prompted Chi Chi's agreement was the idea of further control over Gohan, frantic phone calls from the school's principal or the intimidating Saiyan in front of her, Goku couldn't say. All he knew was that he didn't think he was going to have a problem training Gohan anymore.

"Come on, Gohan," Chi Chi said, once more in control of her voice. "Let's get some clothes on you so you can watch your father." She steered Gohan into a bedroom. Before the little head disappeared into the room, however, Gohan looked back over his shoulder and threw his Uncle Radditz a big grin.

"Wow!" Goku said. "Thanks!"

Radditz shrugged. "It only made sense."

Back at Capsule Corporation, the new energy cell's installation was complete. If the current rate of charging continued, the cell would be fully charged by tomorrow morning. The Saiyans could leave.

Yamcha was extremely gratified to hear this. The Saiyans couldn't leave soon enough as far as he was concerned. Bulma had looked at him oddly after his overly joyous "that's great!" when she told him of the projected departure date, but she didn't say anything.

When he had finished packing and was ready to leave, he found his wife in the living room, where Bulma's mother was serving coffee and cakes to her father and Vegeta. It would have been nice to say goodbye to his wife without the alien's piercing eyes, but a part of him was glad to have an opportunity to "stake his claim" so to speak. Bulma was his wife, no one else's.

Yamcha couldn't help but smile at the king's helpless expression as his mother-in-law chattered. He wondered how long she'd been going at it. Bulma was generally good at interrupting her mother and breaking the constant flow of words, but she was unusually silent, letting her mother continue unabated. When she turned to look at him as he entered the room, he could see the fatigue in her eyes. Of course. After all the work she'd done today, she needed some rest.

"Babe, I'm off to the airport," he announced, heading for the door. He walked slowly, making sure Bulma had an opportunity to . . . .

"Hold on, let me give you a kiss," she said, getting up and heading over. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a sweet, if not deep kiss.

"Take care of yourself," she said, pulling away. "I'll miss you."

"It's just for one night, babe," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow night." He took the opportunity to stroke her cheek and leaned forward to speak softly. "You're not inviting those aliens to sleep inside are you? I know you think they're OK because we saved the king's son, but I'd feel better knowing they weren't."

"No, they're not, but not because I didn't offer; I did. Vegeta just preferred to sleep near his son in the ship."

"That's good then," he said. "Everybody's happy." In a louder voice he added, "You look tired, babe. You've worked really hard today. I want you to go to bed and get some sleep."

"I can't go yet: Vegeta—"

"I don't think the king will mind your excusing yourself for some much needed rest," he said, looking directly at Vegeta. "Not after all your hard work fixing his little spaceship."

There was a pause as the two men's eyes met.

"Of course not," the king answered. "Your husband is right. You look terrible."

Bulma turned her head quickly at the king's remark and drew breath, but all that came out was a decidedly weak, "I must be tired because I can't summon the energy to cut you down like you deserve. Fine, I'll go to bed," she promised Yamcha.

"Excellent," Yamcha said, thrilled with the added bonus of separating his wife from Vegeta. "See you tomorrow then. I love you."

"I love you too," Bulma answered and saw him out the door. She turned back to the room. "Well, I'll take my terrible looks and go to bed. Mother, don't keep Vegeta up too long. He's probably tired as well—"

"Actually," Vegeta said, seizing the opportunity to leave the chatty blonde's company, "I should check on my son. So I will bid you all good night." He turned and left the room, leaving Bulma's mother momentarily speechless.

"Well," Mrs. Briefs said finally, "and I was just about to pull out the photo albums too. I asked him if he had any pictures of darling Vegeta as a baby and he had no idea what I was talking about."

"Now I know I'm tired," Bulma said, "because somehow you said the two words that are certain to make my ears perk up and I didn't hear them. I can't believe you were about to show him my baby pictures!"

"Bulma, those are the most adorable pictures! That one on the bear skin rug---"

Bulma rolled her eyes and left the room. "Good night, Mother," she said through a yawn.

Despite her fatigue, Bulma couldn't sleep. She could never sleep well when Yamcha was out of town anyway, but her heart was so unsettled by Vegeta. How could she feel so strongly about someone she just met? It made no sense. Every time her eyes met his though, she felt a connection, as if her heart recognized him. She thought he felt something too; she couldn't be sure. Surely something this strong couldn't be one-sided.

Could it?

So after a couple of hours lying awake in bed, she threw on some clothes and went to her mother's rose garden and sat on the cold bench. She looked up into the night sky, breathed in the scent of roses and grass, and looked at the stars. Dozens filled the sky, but she knew there were hundreds more she couldn't see in the city. _So many,_ she thought. _I wonder which one is his?_

As if thinking of him had conjured him, he appeared there and silently sat on the bench, turning his gaze to the stars as well. The silence was comfortable, but Bulma had too many questions to keep quiet.

"Do you feel it too?" she asked.

"Yes."

She gave a small nod of her head as she considered the implications of this . . _.thing_ between them.

"I guess the universe is a pretty big place," she said, still looking at the sky.

"Enormous," he answered.

"With hundreds of stars in this galaxy alone."

"Thousands."

"And millions of planets?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"So I guess it's kind of a miracle you came here," she said.

He looked sharply at her, frustrated disbelief in his eyes. "More like a curse, you mean!" He stood up and turned away.

"No! You don't mean that!" she said.

He spun to face her. "Don't I? To know that you exist and I cannot have you with honor . . . ." He looked at the sky and sighed. "Don't you feel cheated? Don't you feel like fate has just played some kind of cosmic joke on you?"

"No," she said and stood and walked to him. "I feel . . . relieved. It makes so much sense now. I knew something was missing. I knew something wasn't right. And now I know--it's you. I don't know why or how, but when I'm with you everything falls into place. I just feel . . . _right_." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know how else to describe it."

"But _I_ didn't know anything was missing," he spat. "I was content with my life. I fought so hard for what I have; it's everything I wanted -- till you. You've opened a door I didn't even know I had. Forty-three thousand light years won't change," he gestured between them,"_this_. I don't know how I can ever be content again."

"But you must! Please, you must be happy! I need to look at the sky and know you're happy. The universe is a huge place. Do you know how few people have ever found what we have? How many people waltz through life waiting for the perfect person, the one who's made just for them? Do you know how many people _die_ waiting? Don't you see? We're different because we know. Even if you're forty-three _million_ light years away, you can know that I'm here looking right back through those same stars at you. Wanting you to be happy . . . because I couldn't bear it if you were sad. I need you to be happy. Because, dammit, I'm going to be. I'm going to be happy having children and inventing things and doing dozens of other things I haven't even thought of yet. I'll have it and I'll know it's the best I can have. And I won't wonder why it's not perfect anymore. I won't have this . . . _hole_ somewhere inside."

She stopped and rubbed a hand against her temple, turning and walking a few steps away. "None of this makes sense, I know. You're standing there looking at me like I'm crazy. You're all upset because we can't 'have each other,' but . . . we _do_ have each other. Maybe not in the perfect, forever kind of way we might if things were different, but somehow I know things would have to be a _lot_ different for that to happen. You said so yourself, there's no reason for you to even be in my region of space. Your son's crash is the only reason you even came. So you had to have him to bring you here. You had to marry to have a son." She paused. "She must be very special, your queen."

Vegeta's lips turned up as he thought of his wife. "Cilantra is . . . all I could hope for in a consort. She is strong and wise. Even-tempered—unlike you—which I think is necessary since I've been known to fly off the handle."

"No!" Bulma said with feigned amazement.

Vegeta smiled. "Yes. She keeps me in check with her calm ways. I've known you for ten hours and I've lost count of times I've heard you raise your voice. I think Cilantra's only done that three times in twelve years. She fought by my side during the revolution. It was only natural that I made her my queen."

"I'm so glad you have her," Bulma said. She felt no jealousy toward this woman who shared Vegeta's life in a way she never could, because she knew there was a part of Vegeta that Cilantra would never touch, a part that was exclusively hers. "She sounds perfect for you."

"No. I know perfect now. But she is," he paused, trying to think of the right word. He thought of Cilantra's strong face, beautiful in the way of Saiyan women, her strong heart, the heart that shared its strength during the long nights when he thought all was lost. No, not perfect, but beloved. "_My queen,_" he said finally. There were no other words appropriate.

Bulma laid her hand lightly on the king's arm. "She's a part of this path too, Vegeta."

"I know. And you're right. My life . . ." He shook his head slightly. "I don't know what path I would have to have taken to bring me here under other circumstances, but I'm sure it would be very different. Maybe we lost to Frieza? Maybe . . ?" He shrugged, his imagination failing to conjure alternate futures. "I don't know, but different."

"Losing to Frieza would have been horrible. You said he was going to destroy your people and your planet. He could have done that. You would have had nothing—no people, no home." Bulma gave small smile. "I don't think meeting me would be able to compensate under those circumstances."

Vegeta thought about his world, his people. To lose them all, lose his heritage, his birthright—would he trade it all for this woman? His heart sang in her presence; he felt so alive, but to lose everything to have her? He shook off the choice. It was moot now anyway, there was no choice to be made and even on another path he wouldn't have been offered a choice. The path would have been set before him and if it led to her, so be it.

"I don't think you would want me under those circumstances anyway," he said instead.

"I don't like to lose and losing all that would bring out all my worst traits."

"You have _worse_ traits?" Bulma said, putting her hands on her hips in mock outrage. "Worse than being an arrogant, disagreeable asshole?"

He shook his finger at her, a gesture so human that Bulma marveled at it. "Careful with the flattery, I'd hate to have to incinerate that smooth tongue of yours."

"I'm quaking with fear, your Highness," she said and then the fists on her hips relaxed and cradled her hips. She leaned forward coquettishly. "But I can promise my tongue is one thing you'd never want to incinerate." She finished with a playful lick of her lips. She realized her mistake immediately as Vegeta paled and stiffened.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," she said. "Flirting just comes second-nature to me."

"Not offended, just . . . reminded that perhaps I should go in now." He took a step back. "Before I begin to 'flirt' back."

"I'd like see that," she said and her lips smiled in invitation. Did she step forward or did the pull between them only make it feel that way?

Gods, he wanted to! The look in her eyes, it was so . . . overwhelming to his senses. The longer he stayed the more he wanted throw his honor to the wind and have her, steal her and hide her away, whether she wanted it or not. She seemed to accept their fate, but he was Saiyan and, as he told her earlier, he hated to lose.

"I cannot," he said with another step back, his honor winning finally. "I should go. Good night." He started up the path, then turned back. "These flowers, what are they called?"

"Roses. My mother grows them."

He stood in silence as he considered his words, then said, "they smell pleasant" before heading back up the path.

Bulma watched him disappear up the path and a panic clutched at her, a feeling that she would never see him again if she didn't do something. So she raced to catch up and caught his arm.

"You won't . . . leave without saying goodbye, will you?" she asked.

He looked at her small hand on his arm and reached with his own to gently lift it off. He held it briefly in his own, marveling at how two hands, separated by so much, could join so easily. He looked back into her eyes and answered.

"No. When the time to leave comes, I will tell you goodbye."

Then he dropped her hand and walked away. This time Bulma let him leave.

Thank you to all of you who have left reviews. It means so much to know that a few of you are enjoying this story.

One chapter to go that 80 finished. Big thanks to Ember for her outstanding beta work and to debbiechan for creative consultation.


	5. Chapter 5

ANOTHER WORLD

AN: This fic begins on the day Radditz would have arrived on Earth. Warnings: Language, possible references to sex.

Disclaimer: I did not create DragonballZ. Although I've been offered millions, I refuse to make money on my stories.

Chapter 5

Morning came. Bulma had finally fallen asleep around two a.m., but despite her lack of sleep she still awoke when the sunlight hit her room. She raced to her window and looked down at the lawn. The ship was still there.

Relief coursed through her. Despite his words last night, she had been afraid that he might leave without seeing her again. Bulma looked at the nightstand and the capsule resting on it. She'd left the rose garden last night determined to give him a small memento of his visit to Earth. She didn't think he would need something to remember her by, but there was enough of her mother in her that she didn't want him to leave empty handed. It wasn't much really --- a trifle, a souvenir.

She took a quick shower, got dressed and then foolishly ran to the window to make sure the ship was still there. It was, of course and she could see that Goku and Gohan had come to say goodbye to Radditz. The three of them were on the lawn outside the ship. Of Vegeta there was no sign.

Bulma hesitated. She wanted to make sure she was able to give Vegeta her gift, but she had wanted to do it in private, without Radditz and certainly without Goku and Gohan watching. If she went down now, she would get roped into a big group goodbye and wouldn't get to . . . .

Get to what? Tell him how sorry she was things weren't different? That wasn't true. If "different" meant he had to lose everything then she didn't want different. She hadn't even considered how different _her_ life would have to be. She remembered how blithely Radditz had commented on the lucrative sale of planets. Would 'different' mean Earth would be purged and sold? Would 'different' mean slavery under the evil Frieza?

Her mind swirled with the possibilities. In another world maybe things would work between them, but it wouldn't be hearts and flowers romance, if only because Vegeta was an aggravating son of a bitch. She smiled and wondered what it would be like to face off with him on a daily basis.

And curl up with him at night.

Bulma shook herself. Thank goodness Yamcha was out of town! She felt disloyal. No, she _was_ disloyal. Yamcha was her husband and no matter how much the prospect of a future with Vegeta intrigued her, she had no business fantasizing about another man --- none at all. For that matter, she had no right to "private goodbyes" either! She went over to her nightstand and grabbed the capsule, determined to end this sojourn into the Twilight Zone once and for all. In another world things might be different, but she lived in this one, dammit, and the sooner she had this world to herself the better.

She almost ran into him as she was leaving the room. He walked in quickly, as if he too sensed the need to leave her to her world. He had a small machine under his arm.

She stopped short, surprised at seeing him in her bedroom. He might have read her thoughts because he said, "your mother said you were up here."

"Oh," she answered, and an uncomfortable silence followed. A second ago she had been determined to be shed of him, watch him fly from her world and her life. Now he was here in front of her, and instead of "goodbye" all she could think of to say was "_stay"_.

Or "_take me with you"_.

So she stared at him, memorized his face, the set of his shoulders, the lean line of his jaw. The morning light on his hair, his skin. The way his eyes could meet hers without looking down. Her eyes went down to the device he was holding, and she realized he wasn't wearing any gloves. His fingers were long and lean --- strong, capable . . . _skilled_.

She forced her eyes back to his face, determined to avoid another dangerous train of thought. "Is the cell all charged?" she asked.

"Yes." He looked uncertain for a moment, and then he said slowly, "I want to give you something, but you have to promise not to tear it apart."

Bulma's lips twisted. "Afraid I might break it?"

"Always," he answered, and his face brightened as he said it. He pulled the device from under his arm and presented it to her. "It's a subspace transmitter."

Bulma's eyes flew to his face in question. He wasn't suggesting that they communicate with this thing? Carry on some chaste, ultra-long distance affair?

Again, it was like he read her mind. "No, it's for emergencies. Earth is too remote now to be threatened, but it will not always be so. For saving my son, you have earned the right to the protection of the Saiyan Empire. Raddtiz tells me Kakarrot has great potential as a warrior, but he is not yet ready to defend the planet. Should the Earth be threatened, send a message, and the might of my world will defend yours."

Bulma reached out to take the transmitter. "How does it work?"

He grinned. "You mean you haven't figured it out yet?"

"Ha ha," Bulma said. "You just told me I couldn't take it apart. So I guess you're going to have to show me how it works." She set the transmitter on a console. "That is, _if you know how_." She crossed her arms and waited.

"Switch this and push here," he said with irritation. Impudent wench! "There! Are you happy?"

Bulma smiled. "Immensely."

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. _Beautiful_, he thought. _Utterly, completely, unforgettably beautiful! _ He felt himself falling into her eye,s and he knew he would never again see blue without thinking of her.

"It . . ." he said, "it's not programmed to transmit to Vegeta-sei. It transmits to a relay station 12,000 light years from here. It will take four days for any message to reach the relay station, but after that it is only hours away from the Imperial Command Office."

"And it's three days to Earth from Vegeta-sei?"

"Yes."

"I won't wait till the last minute to call then. Be a shame if you came all of that way only to find rubble." Another smile.

"I will not return."

The smile faded. "Of course. I only meant . . . ." She looked away. Damn this was awkward. She finally met his eyes again. "Thank you. It's a very thoughtful gift. And I have something for you too!" Bulma said, remembering. She held out the capsule. "It's nothing really. Just a little souvenir of your trip to Earth. I wanted to get your son a T-shirt that said "My dad went to Earth and all I got was this dumb T-shirt" but since you're the first aliens to visit they aren't making them yet."

He was looking at her again in that way that said he had no idea what the hell she was saying. _And no wonder, I'm babbling,_ she thought. I'_m raving like a lunatic. He probably can't wait to leave._

Instead she felt his hand close on hers, and he slowly removed the capsule.

_Warm_, she thought as his hand touched hers. _So warm and soft._ She found herself clutching his hand and pulling it to her.

"This is the part where you leave, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes."

Shit! Her eyes were tearing up. _If I start blubbering, I'm going to kill myself. _ _Do something!_ she screamed to herself, and instinct took over as she quickly reached her other arm behind his head and crushed her lips to his.

At first he did nothing, and Bulma feared she had gravely overstepped her bounds. Then suddenly his arms were around her, and he was kissing her back furiously, passionately. It was a lifetime of kisses poured into one—good mornings, goodnights, endless hours of lovemaking. All were poured into this, their one kiss. It was their forever in one moment.

Finally, he set her from him. The tears she had fought so hard to contain now spilled down her cheeks, and he knew that this would be the face he would see when he remembered her. The face that knew tomorrow would never come for them.

"In another world, in another life, I will find you," he promised.

She managed a smile. "I'll be waiting."

He reached out and cradled a cheek briefly, then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Moments later, Bulma heard the ship power up, and she ran to the window in time to see the cloaking device conceal the ship. She traced the blur of the ship with her eyes until it vanished into the glare of the morning sun.

Vegeta stormed onto the cruiser. 

"Launch!" he yelled to Radditz up on the bridge, and then he went further into the ship, back to the lounge. He threw himself onto a bench, but couldn't sit still, so he stood and paced the small interior of the room. What he really wanted was to blast something into tiny bits, but giving in to that urge on a spaceship was suicide.

So he paced. He paced and wondered what he could have done differently. He wondered how she would have answered if he had asked her to . . . . What? Come with him to Vegeta-sei?

No. That was out of the question. She was bound to another, as was he. This was a matter of honor. Their time was past.

No. Their time never was.

He finally sat down, the realization sapping the energy from his limbs. There was no happy ending because there was no story to tell. They should never have met; they should have gone blithely through the rest of their lives, ignorant of the other's existence.

He had told her that he didn't think he could ever be content again. Was that true? He thought of his life --- his planet, his people, and his family. It was more than he ever thought he would have. It was wrong to want . . . more.

But he would never look at the stars the same way again.

"Sire, I have made the jump to hyperspeed. The cell is performing perfectly. We should be home in three days," Radditz said, interrupting Vegeta's reverie.

Vegeta gave a small nod. "Excellent" was all he said.

Radditz observed his king. The quiet demeanor was at odds with the usual vigor the king displayed. He ventured a guess.

"Did the woman say 'no'?"

Vegeta's eyes flew to Radditz's face, and for a moment, Radditz thought he saw panic in them before it was quickly shuttered away.

"I didn't ask."

"Didn't ask? I thought you decided we needed to obtain the capsule technology. Its uses are manifold. We---"

Realization and relief dawned on Vegeta. "Oh, the capsules. No, I decided we would develop it on our own."

"Devel---" Radditz started, but then he heard what Vegeta had just said. "What did you think I was asking about?"

Vegeta blinked, caught. He swallowed, and then said, "I'm sure I have no idea."

Radditz's eyes narrowed and then widened as pieces began to fall into place. So there was more happening between the woman and his king. He had felt the chemistry (if one could call fighting "chemistry") between them, but he never thought that Vegeta would actually . . . .

"Sire---"

Vegeta stood. "The woman gave you Vegeta's pod back in a capsule, did she not?" Radditz nodded. "That is all we need. Turn it over to Research and Development when we return." Then he turned on his heel and walked back towards the med bay were his son was.

Vegeta took a few calming breaths. _Nothing, he knows nothing_ he told himself. Guesses, feelings. Nothing happened. _Everything happened._

He looked at his son. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he had spoken to him. The young prince floated in the tank, asleep. He had been completely healed for hours, but Vegeta had decided to leave him in the tank for the duration of the trip home. He didn't trust himself not to beat the boy into a bloody pulp for his outright defiance of the quarantine order. _Leash round his neck, indeed! _

The boy had become more defiant lately, questioning Vegeta's decisions regarding his training and his pastimes. All the other boys fought in off-world tournaments. Lano got to go hunting poisonous _bolki_ on Malnan Prime with his dad's squad. Jal and Hab got to travel more than ten parsecs without an elite. The list of his son's embarrassments and grievances went on and on.

But . . . the boy didn't understand. How could he? How could he know what it was like to fight to win with every ounce of strength your body possessed, only to lose? How could he understand the guilt Vegeta felt everyday? How did you look your son in the eye and tell him that his brother's death gave his father the greatest gift? How did one explain to a child that failing to protect what was most important to him had given him power beyond any Saiyan's dreams? How could you explain the joy you feel at the power or the guilt you feel at the cost?

And how do you answer the inevitable question: _Would you pay the price again? _

_No. No I would not, son. _

It was time for the truth. Vegeta punched the blue button and watched the tank drain.

Later when his son was dry and dressed, Vegeta sat down with his son.

"I want to tell you a story . . . ."

When Vegeta finished speaking, the prince was silent, thoughtful. Then he spoke.

"Father, I know that you are trying to protect me. But I'm not him. I'm not a baby. I am strong." He paused and leaned forward. "Let me grow up now. I won't disappoint you."

_Disappointment was never my fear, _Vegeta thought, and his chest swelled with pride. _Not a baby anymore._ He pressed his lips together in a small smile. "Are you suggesting I 'loosen your leash?'"

His son winced. "You heard about that, did you? Sorry."

Vegeta smiled a true smile this time. "I am the king. People tell me these things," he said. "Let us speak to Raddtiz and see how long a leash we can arrange."

Yamcha came home about eight o'clock that night. The house was quiet and dark. He knew it was Mrs. Briefs's bunko night, and Dr. Briefs was probably in his corporate lab. That left Bulma. Where was she?

He wandered from room to room, flipping on lights, hoping for a note that said she was over helping her dad in his lab. His heart sank a little bit more each time he found a room empty. What would he do if she had gone?

He finally found her in their darkened bedroom, staring out at the sky. Relief flooded though him. _She's still here_. He dropped his bag to the floor, and the sound made her turn her head. Even in the dim light he could see the hollows in her eyes, the sadness. He wondered how long she'd been standing there, staring out of the window, but then he decided he didn't really want to know the answer to that question.

"Are they gone?" he asked.

He saw her face wrench slightly, and he knew what was coming next, so he did the only thing he could. He held out his arms, and Bulma ran into them. She buried her face against his chest and wept. He merely held her and let her cry tears for another man. Others might think it was odd that he could do so, but Yamcha loved his wife. He loved her beauty, her bossiness, her temper. He had loved her at sixteen and now perhaps, as she cried tears not meant for him, he loved her more.

At last Bulma's tears faded, and she pulled back slightly and wiped her eyes with her hands.

"Sorry," she said. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"That's alright, babe," Yamcha said. "You did a lot of hard work the last twenty-four hours." He pulled her back into his arms, thrilled that he could still do so. And _she hugged him back._ It felt good.

She pushed back again suddenly. "Hey, I forgot. Did you win?"

He looked into his wife's eyes and brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Yes. Yes, I did."

But he wasn't speaking about the game.

Three days later, the king's cruiser arrived on Vegeta-sei. A small contingent of Elites escorted the queen to the landing pad. She bowed low as her husband and king exited the ship, but her eyes were looking for her son. Vegeta raised her from her curtsey and dismissed the Elites before they left the landing area.

"Where is our son, Vegeta?"

"Radditz has taken him to the Elite Training Facility. If he is going to fight pirates then he needs more rigorous training."

Cilantra's eyebrows raised. "You're going to let him fight pirates? What changed your mind?"

"It is time, Cilantra. The boy is not afraid. Why should we be?"

Cilantra decided to let the subject drop, and they walked in silence until they reached their private chambers. Once the door was closed, Cilantra said, "Husband, we discussed this. We decided it was best to keep Vegeta from unnecessary risk."

"He is seeking risk anyway, Cilantra. All we can do is prepare him for it."

Her face softened, and she relented. "You are right, of course. I've been foolish. Our son is strong."

"He takes after his mother," he said, and the impulse to hold his wife overcame him. He took her in his arms and held her, realizing suddenly that he had missed her.

Cilantra was startled by Vegeta's embrace, although not so much that she did not wrap her own arms around him. "Vegeta," she asked. "What is it?"

He pulled back a little to look into her face and smiled a soft smile. "Nothing," he said. "It is good to be home."

Vegeta never opened the capsule that Bulma had given him. There was something too final about opening it. He kept it hidden away, a secret present from another life that never was.

_**In another world, in another life . . . .**_

Bulma lay in the arms of her husband, exhausted. To say that the day had been trying would be the understatement of the year.

They had been awakened at three that morning by a phone call --- from Goten, of all people. Hearing Vegeta snarl "This had better be good!" into the phone, Goten immediately asked to speak to Bulma.

"Bra needs you to come. There's not a lot of time to explain, and we didn't want you to find out this way, but the baby's coming early, and she's scared."

"Baby!"

"Bra's having a baby. We've been married six months."

So she and Vegeta had thrown on clothes and flown across the continent to the hospital where Bra was in labor. They made it in good time, and Bra delivered a healthy baby boy, despite arriving a month premature. Once the main event was out of the way, Goten told the rest of their amazing story.

Bulma had known in the back of her mind that Goten had moved to Appletown, but she didn't think that he and Bra would ever cross paths when she went to the university there. Indeed, they had only crossed paths by accident; Goten had been teaching in a dojo that Bra's current boyfriend attended. Despite having a job, Goten had looked so down on his luck that Bra had offered to buy him lunch one day. Over lunch, Goten had confided that he was saving all his money because the owner was selling the dojo. It wasn't making money, and the owner wanted to retire. "But it _can_ make money," Goten had said. "I know it can, I've got all these ideas . . . ." His enthusiasm infected Bra, and she offered to lend him the money to buy the dojo on one condition: that he let her make it her project for her Business Planning class next term. He had readily agreed, and the two had spent the next semester revamping the dojo and falling in love. The dark cloud over their heads was Bra's parents' reaction to the match.

"I know I'm a lot older than she is," Goten said, "and believe me, I fought it. I didn't want to love her like I do, but, "and he looked at Vegeta when he said this, "you can't stop loving someone just because you don't want to. And after a while, I just stopped trying.

"We wanted to tell you; we did, and we never meant for it to get his far, honest. We just were afraid because I'm so much older and Goku's son that you wouldn't approve."

At this, Vegeta had snarled, "and you're right!" and stormed out of the waiting area. Bulma immediately got up to follow him, but Goten held her back.

"This is between him and me," he said. "Whether he realizes it or not, we're in this for the long haul. He needs to understand that he can't win this one."

Bulma had been surprised and proud of Goten's courage and let him go. He and Vegeta vanished outside for what seemed like forever. When they came back, Vegeta was sullen, but made no more outbursts. When Bra was finally put into a private room, Vegeta went in and closed the door. After fifteen minutes of speaking to his daughter, he opened the door and let Bulma and Goten in.

He had been silent the rest of the afternoon, paying little attention to Bulma as she made lists of things Bra and the baby needed or decided which rooms to convert into permanent guest rooms for the new family when they visited.

Finally, Bra announced she was tired and wanted to sleep, and Bulma and Vegeta made the trip back home to Capsule Corporation. After two attempts to draw Vegeta into conversation, Bulma decided to let him stew until they were at home. Now, in the dark and quiet of their bedroom, Bulma decided to speak.

"I guess we know now why she could never come home," she said.

"Hnn."

_So much for the roundabout route_, she thought. Next she tried a direct assault.

"You're not really upset about Goten are you?"

Vegeta said nothing, and after a while Bulma decided that his grunt to her first statement might be all he would ever say on the matter. But he surprised her, finally speaking in a low voice.

"No. He is truly her choice. And for all he looks like him, he is not Kakarrot. He will not treat his wife so badly."

"No," Bulma agreed. "Of course, it helps having a father-in-law who will kick his butt if he makes her unhappy!"

A very small chuckle. "Well, it doesn't hurt."

"Where did you two go this afternoon?"

"He took me to see his dojo. He wanted to show me that he could take care of Bra and the baby."

"That's so sweet! I want to see it too. Is it nice?"

She felt Vegeta shrug. "I suppose. There seemed to be a lot of students."

"See? It all works out in the end. This surprise marriage to Goten isn't as bad as you thought."

"I suppose not," he said and then paused. "At least my grandchild looks Saiyan."

"Ah! I wondered when you were going to rub that in. Your Saiyan genes have finally triumphed over my human ones!"

He didn't laugh at her joke nor did he "rub it in." Instead he fell so silent that Bulma had to ask, "Vegeta, what is it?"

"Nothing. I just said two words I never thought I would say."

"What two words?"

"_My grandchild._"

Bulma's heart ached for him. Trunks's homosexuality had hit Vegeta hard and had caused a rift between them for the better part of a year. Vegeta's objection had more to do with Trunks failure to continue the male line of the royal house rather than any sexual prudery. It had been a tense, ugly time, and Bulma was relieved when Trunks finally convinced his father to accept his lifestyle and choice. She knew acceptance didn't change the pain Vegeta felt for his lost heritage. Here was a chance to heal that wound as well.

"A new heir for the royal House of Vegeta-sei," she reminded him. Perhaps little Nashi came from their daughter, but he carried Vegeta's legacy all the same.

Again, he surprised her. "There is no House of Vegeta-sei. It died years ago and far away."

His hollow voice echoed through her. Her eyes grew mois,t and she felt a stab of pain for all he had lost. Most of the time she never saw the scars of that day so long ago when his life changed forever. Tonight though, the scars were gone, and a gaping wound was in their place. Odd how the birth of a child, usually a happy event, can raise the ghosts of the long-dead.

She wrapped her arms around him tighter. "I'm sorry, Vegeta. If I could bring back your world, I would."

He reached with one hand and stroked her arm, accepting her comfort. "I'm all right, Bulma." He took a slow breath, shedding the melancholy as he released the air. "I used to be so angry for everything taken from me. Wondering what my life might have been like if things were different. Sometimes I would imagine myself as king of Vegeta-sei, a man grown, walking the halls of the palace with Elites at my side."

"Am I your queen?" she asked playfully.

"We would never have met, Bulma."

"What do you mean?"

"Earth is in largely unexplored space. Eventually a squad would have been sent to investigate the fate of Kakarrot, but I certainly wouldn't have been a part of it. And I don't need to tell you what would have happened to Earth once the squad arrived."

"No," she said slowly and shivered. She'd gotten a wee taste of what Saiyans did to planets when Nappa and Vegeta had first arrived. "I never thought about it like that, how accidental fate is. I can't imagine my life without you, but now that I look back, I see how unlikely it is that you wound up here. If your planet still existed, you wouldn't be here. If Frieza hadn't killed you, you wouldn't be here. If Trunks hadn't warned us of the future . . . . So many possibilities and in most of them, we never wind up here." She fell silent as she thought about how incredibly lucky she was to have beaten those odds.

He glanced at her as she lay ruminating on all the possible futures she might have had, with or without him. "Although," he drawled, "if we _had_ met, I'm sure I would have recognized you for what you are."

"Oh yeah?" Bulma said, raising her head to look at him. "What's that? Your worst nightmare?"

Vegeta looked at her face in the darkness, and whatever playful insult he had devised died on his lips. All he could see was Bulma, and the years fell away. He saw her as she looked that day at Kami's lookout after defeating Buu. Her eyes shining with unshed tears, the tilt of her head as she gave him the "thumbs up". He'd known in that moment that she suited him like no one else, that she understood him like no one else, but most of all, that she loved him like no one else. It was an infinite universe, but in a blind stoke of luck, he had wound up where he should have been all along.

He reached out and stroked her cheek. "You are the other half of my soul."

He'd startled her; he could see that. She had been expecting the insult as well. But she recovered quickly and drew breath to reply. He placed his fingertips on her lips to stop her from speaking.

"I think I am allowed the last word once in thirty-five years, don't you?"

Bulma nodded. He removed his fingers. "Now, I don't suppose there's any way I can talk you out of getting up and heading back to the hospital tomorrow?"

Bulma shook her head.

"Then lie down and get some sleep. You're grumpy when you're tired."

Bulma smiled and did as she was told, resting her head on Vegeta's chest. She fell asleep quickly, but the smile lasted long into the night.

Fin

Thanks for reading and thank you so much for all your kind reviews. I have a soft spot for this story, and I'm glad someone's enjoying it.

I am taking a rest from the fandom. All of my work is available at under the pen name "LisaB." Some are unsuitable for due to their ratings, and will never be posted here.

As always, super big thanks and hugs to Ember for her fabulous beta skills and to debbiechan, who always provides the most thoughtful and caring feedback. Domo arigato, ladies.


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